


Comfort

by ArsenicPanther



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Autistic Character, Badly Written, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Karkat Needs a Hug, M/M, Minor Injuries, Oneshot, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Sensory Overload, Stimming, autistic karkat, daves cape is sofd, i mean I didn’t say it but it is. he’m autistic., its 4 am just take it, meltdowns, youch!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 14:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArsenicPanther/pseuds/ArsenicPanther
Summary: Karkat has a panic attack. Dave calms him down.





	Comfort

You’re bleeding. You must’ve slipped when you were trying to open that can of- tuna, you think it’s called.

You think.

You stare at your hand, which is steadily dripping bright red over the sink, and start to shake. You should really get some bandages, you think distantly, and waves of fear start to rise inside you. A cold feeling spreads under your ribs.

It’s too much.

You can’t. You can’t let anyone see this.

Maybe it’s the combination of having been out and about all day, the fluorescent brightness of the new kitchen lights, and now being reminded of your disgusting hemofailure- you don’t know what to do. It’s too much. You drop the half-open can and it crashes against the inside of the sink, making you flinch violently. Tripping over yourself, you stumble back and hit the wall, shaking as your bloods turns to ice. You can’t breathe, you can’t think straight, and you. Can’t. Breathe.

Your hands curl in painful fists in your hair as you sink to the ground and curl in on yourself. You have to be dying. That’s the only explanation for this. You were stupid enough to get cut on something that wasn’t even supposed to be a weapon, and now you’re dying.

Someone speaks and you hear it distantly without comprehending what they’re saying. A hand touches your shoulder and you flinch again, making the person who entered the room pull away. You glance up from the shelter of your knees. It’s Dave. Of course it is. How dumb are you, thinking that the only other person in the house wouldn’t hear you? That he wouldn’t come and check on you?

You really don’t want him to see you like this, but somehow your grip on reality gets a bit stronger. He’s talking again, and he reaches for you.

This time you don’t flinch.

He’s telling you to breathe, and you don’t even have the presence of mind to say something snappy in return. You mimic his breathing and your racing pulse finally starts to return to normal. Your claws dig into the front of his god tier shirt, and he shifts for a moment before taking one of your hands and placing it on his cape. You latch onto it, running the soft fabric between your hands. Your control over your breathing comes back to you in increments. The cold ocean inside of you recedes.

You want to thank him, but in your embarrassment you just mumble something about him not having to do this for you.

He says he doesn’t mind.

He loves you.

Dave helps you stumble to your feet and lay down on the couch. You are so very tired, and yet, you feel safer than you think you ever have.


End file.
